Chapter 21
Briar
Briar drifted into consciousness slowly, vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps. She took in light coming from the hallway, then glanced to her right, finding Alice’s side of the bed empty. The world outside was dark.
Briar quietly crept across the bedroom. The footsteps were coming from the office, and as Briar entered, she almost ran into Alice.
‘Ally?’ she grumbled, squinting against the onslaught of overhead light.
‘Oh,’ Alice said, starting. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’
The insomnia had begun in high school. Alice would arrive to school late, heavy concealer under her eyes and a dullness about her that Briar had detected instantly.
Between first and second periods, Briar would sneak out to get Alice coffee from the shop across the street.
Alice would sip on it until lunch, when she would lean on Briar’s shoulder and let sleep claim her for a few minutes.
‘It’s fine,’ Briar said. Alice was still in her pajamas and she was clutching what was possibly the thickest book Briar had ever seen. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Reading,’ Alice said, glancing down. ‘Every Living Thing, have you read it? Susan sent it to me when I got accepted to Oxford.’ She thumbed the page. ‘This must have been her copy.’
‘You nearly ran into me while… reading?’ Briar asked, sure that her brain was simply too tired to make sense of what was going on.
‘Yes,’ Alice said. ‘I pace while I read. Tire my brain and my body at the same time. It’s efficient.’
Briar imagined Alice pacing late at night, alone in her dorm room. She wished Alice would have just picked up the phone, that she could have been there for her.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, knowing Alice’s insomnia always worsened before exams or big presentations.
‘I got an email from my advisor,’ Alice said, sighing and walking over to the desk. She put the book down and slumped into the chair.
‘Bad news?’ Briar slid into the opposite chair. Alice steepled her fingers together, squinting at nothing in front of her. It was a familiar gesture, from countless late night study sessions where Alice would quiz Briar before a test.
‘No.’ She sighed, rubbing her eyes. ‘He’s recommended me for a position with the Royal Botanical Society.’
‘That sounds like good news,’ Briar said.
‘Yes,’ Alice said faintly. ‘I suppose it is.’
‘Do you not want the job?’
‘It’s everything I’ve been working towards,’ Alice said firmly, then sighed.
‘I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast. I’ll be interviewing as soon as I get back, and then I’ve got to defend my dissertation.
Jeremy says it just needs some final tweaks, but it’s nowhere near ready.
’ She was working herself into hysterics.
‘And I just don’t know if I’m ready to be done with school yet.
I feel like I have so much more to learn. I’m not re—’
Briar got up and crossed over to Alice before she could finish. She grabbed Alice’s chin and tilted her face up.
‘It’s going to be okay,’ Briar said. ‘The real world isn’t that scary. Trust me, you’re going to be fine. Not just fine, you’ll be incredible.’
Alice’s eyes were glassy as she wrapped her arms around Briar’s waist. Briar squeezed her back just as hard. They stayed like that for a while, until Alice was able to breathe normally again.
Briar slowly disentangled herself and looked Alice in the eye again. ‘We’re going to make sure you ace that interview. If you need time to prep for it, we can work it into the schedule. But’ – she grabbed Alice’s hands and pulled her up – ‘that can all wait until morning.’
Alice let Briar guide her back to bed, didn’t complain when Briar made her drink a whole glass of water, and, when Briar slipped into bed, gratefully clung to her.
‘Now,’ Briar said, wedging a thigh between Alice’s knees and slipping a hand under her tank top, ‘tell me all the different subspecies of mushrooms in the Mid-Atlantic.’
It was an old game they had played when Alice couldn’t sleep. Alice smiled and leaned in, pressing her lips against Briar’s softly before retreating to her own pillow again. ‘Alphabetical?’
Briar nodded.
‘Scientific names?’
‘Naturally.’
Alice kissed her again before closing her eyes and starting: ‘Armillaria gallica, Armillaria mellea, Armillaria solidipes, Cortinarius caperatus, Coprinus comatus, Coprinopsis variegata…’
They both were asleep before Alice finished the Gs.
The next morning, two of the counselors woke up with some kind of rash. How they’d contracted it, and subsequently infected each other, Briar didn’t want to know. She sent them off to see Harper and brought their campers to the lake for a swim lesson.
Noah was lifeguarding the empty lake diligently. His face lit up when he saw the nine- and ten-year-olds bumbling towards him.
‘Well, hello there, sailors,’ he said, grabbing a stack of kickboards. ‘Today, we’re gonna see who can kick the hardest.’
Briar watched them from the beach, enjoying the quiet.
Without any distractions, her thoughts inevitably turned to Alice.
That sweltering poker game had frayed the last of her nerves, and she hadn’t been able to resist anymore.
It was just like high school again, the same desire coursing through her every time she looked at Alice.
Only now it was worse. Because now, Briar knew what Alice looked like sprawled out beneath her, knew what her lips felt like on Briar’s skin, knew the sounds Alice made when she came.
It had been driving Briar insane. Every touch, every glance, every second alone together seemed to be pulling her closer.
And so, she’d kissed her. Damn the consequences, damn however much it was going to hurt when Alice left.
It was the chance to have everything her teenage self had ever wanted, and Briar had taken it.
And then the night before had happened, and now it was impossible to ignore that Briar was once again giving too much of herself.
It was supposed to be just sex, not late-night conversations where Briar soothed Alice’s fears of the future, or held her while she cried.
It wasn’t supposed to be falling asleep in each other’s arms. Briar needed to be better about putting a wall between her feelings for Alice and her attraction.
‘Earth to Briar.’
Her head snapped up to see Harper.
‘Oh, hey.’
‘You good?’
‘Fine,’ Briar said, making room on her towel. ‘So, what’s the diagnosis?’
Harper put her bag down and sat. ‘Crabs.’
‘No,’ Briar said, scandalized. ‘How did that happen?’
‘Apparently, David went to a white party over the Fourth and brought back souvenirs.’
Briar grimaced. ‘So him and Josh…’
‘Are sleeping together? Yup,’ Harper said. ‘Josh is pissed. And I got to hear all about it while examining their junk, so yay me.’
‘I guess it’s a good thing I stocked up on that lice shampoo.’
Harper shuddered. ‘Anyway, they’re having it out, so I figured I’d come ogle my half-naked fiancé. How’s he?’
‘Spectacular, as always,’ Briar said, resting her arms on her knees and digging her toes into the muddy sand. They sat in silence, watching as Noah played a version of sharks and minnows that pitted him against twenty children.
Harper’s presence was always calming. The ease Briar felt now put the uneasiness she felt with Alice in stark relief. Being with Alice was constantly being on edge, the air between them charged. It was like waiting for the floor to fall out from under her.
She wished she could be honest with Harper.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ Briar said instead. ‘Thanks for coming back. And letting Noah be here. I know—’
Harper raised a hand to stop her. ‘Don’t do that. We love you, and we want to help. I’m just sorry I can’t be here all the time with my work schedule.’
Briar chewed her lower lip, glancing sideways at Harper and taking in her exhausted expression and the book poking out of her bag: Adult Children of Immature Parents.
Briar raised her eyebrows. She knew she had missed things over the past few months, but now it felt like the source of the tension between Harper and Noah was obvious.
When it came down to it, the problems between them were always related to Harper’s parents.
Harper noticed her expression and shoved the book deeper into her bag. ‘It’s for work,’ she muttered.
Briar clicked her tongue. ‘Sure.’
Harper softened. ‘I’m just stressed with wedding planning.’
‘Is that all?’ she asked. ‘Noah said you were being weird. And he’s right.’
Harper blew out a sigh. It had taken Briar years to learn how to get Harper to talk to her, but now it was one of her best skills.
‘My parents…’ Harper started, rolling her eyes at Briar’s obvious glance at the book in her bag.
‘…hate Noah,’ Briar supplied.
‘They don’t hate Noah. They hate that he’s a music teacher.’
‘Ah,’ Briar said, not surprised. This was an old fight, one that Harper had had with her parents many times. ‘So what?’
‘So,’ she said, ‘is it too much to ask that my parents support me on my wedding day?’ At Briar’s confused look, she added, reluctantly, ‘They’re refusing to pay for the venue.’
‘What?’ Briar said. ‘But they offered you the money when you booked it!’
Harper nodded grimly. ‘I know, but we had this massive fight a few weeks ago and all this shit came up again. How if I hadn’t started dating Noah, I wouldn’t have switched from pre-med to nursing. That I’d be nearly done with my residency now.’
Harper’s shoulders shook with anger, and Briar reached out to soothe her.
She knew that particular comment hurt Harper the most. What her parents didn’t know was that Harper’s pre-med courses had driven her into a depressive episode so intense that Noah and Briar had slept in her dorm room for three weeks to make sure she didn’t fail out or do something much worse.
It had taken years of therapy for Harper to stop seeing her nursing career as a consolation prize. Her parents just weren’t there yet.
‘You save people’s lives every day,’ Briar said seriously. ‘And you’re not an asshole. So you’re already better than them.’ She paused. ‘Are you going to tell Noah?’
Harper shook her head. ‘It would just upset him. There’s nothing he can do.’
Briar shrugged. ‘Maybe not, but you know he’d be there for you, if you let him.’
Harper reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll think about it.’